


This, I Promise You

by orphan_account



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Serpent!Betty, betty and jughead are the dark power couple you didn't know you needed, everyone in this fic needs sorting out, i think, they all need tea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-08 22:18:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11091060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: She just wanted to help.No matter what that meant she had to do.





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

 

 

_**Jughead** _

 Steps. Light, pattering footsteps up the carpeted staircase.

When I was twelve, I realised I could identify which member of my family was coming upstairs based solely on their footsteps. Jellybean’s were sporadic - clumped together and loud with long pauses if she got distracted by a scuff on the wall or something left atop the landing. Dad’s were heavy, sometimes you could hear him stumbling. Each stair would creak after he stepped.

Mom’s were soft and quicker, not unlike Betty Cooper’s.

“Jug?”

And that’s all it takes - I’m out of my bed, cramming my hat over my hair before I can even think. She opens the door when I have a leg out of the window and her face drains of colour.

“Jug! What the hell are you doing?”

I think she thinks I’m going to jump.

* * *

_**Betty** _

For a fleeting, stomach-curdling moment, I think he’s trying to kill himself.

And then my eyes flit to his closet, and there’s a single clothes hanger on the door. His bag is on his bag, fit-to-burst.

My stomach sinks.

“What are you doing?” I can hear my voice wavering and I hate it. I hate this.

He tilts away from me, veering all too close to the window ledge, and drops his bag out. I watch it slide down the slope of the roof and get caught in the gutter where it hangs precariously.

“I’m fine, Bets,” his voice is shaking too, I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing. “I just needed to get out.”  
“Get out to go see the Serpents, no doubt.”

“It’s not like that-”  
“Then what is it like, Jughead?” I ask, flinging my jacket down on his bed; the sheets are pulled straight, he hasn’t touched it since he got here, weeks ago.

I watch his shoulders rise and fall as we wait in silence. Part of me wants to run and pull him off that god forsaken ledge and into my arms. I want to drag him home and make him sleep and eat properly.

But instead, I stand in silence, watching him breathe.

“We need to talk,” he mumbles.

“Yeah,” I snap, “We do.”

He slides over along the window ledge, making room for me. I haul myself up using the curtain rail. We’re on top of the world - or Jughead’s foster parent’s house, at least. The whole of the South Side watches us in the dusk.

We’re too close together for arguing, and I think Jug realises, because he drops a few metres so he’s sat on the roof. His boot nudges his bag, and it falls the rest of the way down to the ground.

“How’s Polly?”

“She’s fine.”

“And Archie? And Veronica?”

“You’d know if you bothered to visit us,” I mutter.

He looks up at me.

His eyes are red.

And I can’t hold a grudge.

* * *

**_Jughead_ **

She slides down onto the roof with me, and I try not to look at her - scrubbing at my eyes.

“I’m sorry…”

“You’re right,” I interrupt, “I just never know when the time’s right.”

“Juggie, you can come see us whenever.”

I shrug, dragging my foot along the roof, making patterns in the dirt.

“They want to meet you,” I say, “The serpents- they want to meet you.”

She recoils, staring at me in horror.

“You told them about-”

“No,” I cut her off, “of course I didn’t.”

“Are you going to tell them?”

“No,” I touch her right palm as an afterthought, “I’d never.”

She breathes a sigh of relief, closing her hand around mine.

It starts to rain. I don’t think Betty notices.

“Why do they want to meet me?” she asks.

“I don’t know. You don’t have to.”

It’s her turn to shrug, as she shifts to face me; and her eyes are full of a concern I’ve grown to know so well over the past six months.

“Don’t go out tonight,” she says, “Please, Juggie. Stay here - or come to mine, or…” she stops herself from talking sharpish - and I wonder if she was going to say what I thought she was.

I look down to the ground; my rucksack’s open just a little - I can see the leather of my jacket. Betty cups my face and tilts it towards her.

“Don’t think about them tonight. You need to eat, and sleep.”

I nod, because I do. I don’t think I’ve slept properly since we saw Clifford Blossom shoot his son.

I smile weakly.

“I’ll stay.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**_Betty_ **

“Something's wrong.”  
“Well, duh.”  
“I mean with Jughead.”  
“Again; well, duh. He's Jughead,” Veronica eyes me over her smoothie.   
We’re sat at her kitchen island, with breakfast practically being shoved down our throats by Mrs Lodge - ‘Call me Hermione’.   
Jug fell asleep at around eleven last night, completely crashed out on his bed. I didn't want to disturb him when I woke in the morning, so I came here instead.   
My mom thought I was at Veronica’s anyway.   
“I mean like, really wrong, Ronnie,” I sigh, “He’s not been sleeping, he can barely look me in the eye, he's not even writing.”  
“His dad’s been arrested, B. Give the guy a break.”  
I swallow, and it tastes of guilt and insensitivity.   
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like-”  
“I know you didn't.”   
I change the subject to the first thing that comes into my head - which is most likely a terrible idea.   
“How’s Arch?”  
“Same as he is for you,” she grabs her phone and scrolls through a chain of messages between her and Archie; Veronica’s lines of sentences and thick paragraphs, and Archie answering in one or two word replies.   
Exactly the same as my conversations with him.   
“Do you know when he's coming home?”  
“Not a word on it. He hasn't even said if he actually likes it in Chicago,” Veronica snaps her phone off and slams it onto the table with unnecessary vigour. “Have you told Jughead about it yet?”  
“You know I haven't had the time…”  
“Betty!”  
“Veronica!”  
“You need to tell him. About Archie moving to Chicago… and about Fred.”  
“I can't do that to him.” I say, pushing my smoothie away. Fred was more of a dad than FP was to Jughead; I can't tell him that he's lost another father figure. I don't think I could stomach it.   
My phone buzzes - an unrecognised number with a South Side area code - and I'm out of the door before Ronnie can ask who it is.

* * *

 

**_Jughead_ **

The scrap of paper Betty scribbled her number on before she left last night lies on the coffee table next to my foster parents’ ancient house phone.   
“Jughead?”   
“How’d’you know it was me?” I grin, walking the phone to the couch.   
“I'm a psychic,” I can hear her smile, hear her pacing her room. “What's up?”  
I steal a look at the beige interior of my foster home and think for a moment how good it'd be to head to Pop’s with Betty.   
I propose the idea before I can convince myself otherwise.   
“Do you wanna meet me at Pop’s?”  
“I don't- I mean… Can we- uh…” she's stuttering and mumbling - which can't possibly have any positive connotations. “Juggie, I really need to talk with you.”  
“We’re on the phone. It was invented for talking on.”  
“I'm being serious,” I've never heard Betty sound as small as she does on the other end of the call.   
“Betty, what's wrong?”  
“Nothing, I’ll explain later - at my house. My parents aren't here, don't worry. It's just me and Polly.”  
“Betty…”   
“Okay bye!”  
The line goes dead, and I'm left sat on the edge of the couch listening to the low beep, wondering what the hell could have caused Betty Cooper to turn down a trip to Pop’s. 

* * *

 

**_Betty_ **

I meet him at our front gate. He's got that stupid backpack slung over his left shoulder again, but he's half-grinning, and my heart melts.   
He kisses me softly, and I cling on to him for as long as possible because I don't know how he's going to react in a minute. I just want to stay here, in this moment, with nothing but Jughead, the garden gate, and I.   
“Hey,” he smiles, “what’s going on?”  
I turn to face him, so we’re stood parallel to each other, he drops my hand, smile crumbling to ash.  
“Betty?”  
A deep breath. His eyes. His eyes. Don’t look directly at him.  
“It’s Archie… It’s Fred.   
“It’s everything.”

* * *

**_Jughead_ **

Her nails are digging into her palms as she tells me, and for once, I can’t think of how to stop her. Because every thought I’ve ever had is draining out of me slowly. Every unique sentence and new idea pool around Betty’s front yard as the last pieces of my life before Jason’s death disintegrate before my eyes.   
“You didn’t tell me,” my voice is laden with gravel, but that doesn’t matter, “you knew for two weeks and you didn’t tell me.”  
“Jug,” she reaches to brush hair out of my eyes, and her face falls when I duck away. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”  
“Well you’ve hurt me. Where’s Archie?”  
She’s quiet for a moment; my eyes follow hers over to the Andrews’ house, where I used to live, where Fred used to live.  
“He’s in Chicago, with his mom. He’s not talking to us properly.”  
“You’re saying I could’ve helped?” I ask, “But I couldn’t. Because I didn’t know.”  
“Well maybe you would if you hung out with us!”  
“How am I meant to hang out with him, Betty? When he’s in Chicago?”  
“You know what I mean.” she says quietly, and I do, and maybe I’ll be able to look at her without becoming unequivocally angry, but not right now, not today.  
I grab my rucksack, avoiding her eyes, and take off down the road.  
“Where are you going?” she’s calling after me, and I can hear her running to catch up. I don’t break my stride. “Jughead!”  
“I’ve got things to do,” I mutter, walking faster as she catches up with me.   
I underestimated how fast she could run.  
“Serpent things?”  
I stop, because Betty knows me, and there’s no point denying anything now.   
“Yes, Serpent things.” I pick up the pace again, hoping she’ll get the hint.  
She doesn’t.  
“Then I’ll go with you.”  
“You know they won’t let you in.”  
“Then I’ll become a serpent.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your views and bookmarks and kudos! You guys are great!

**_Betty_ **

I watch as he freezes again, and imagine a blazing fire in my eyes.  Polly once told me that I could get whatever done if I set my mind to it - all I need to do is pretend she was telling the truth. 

“I’ll join the Serpents, Jug.”

He ignores me, and stalks off. I can’t see his face, and when I call after him, he doesn’t answer.

‘Are you breaking up with me? Jug!”    
He picks up his pace, so I match it until I’m close enough to catch his hand in my own, but he pulls away. And just like that, we’re facing each other again.   
“I don't know, Betty.  Neither of us are in the right place for this. We're just gonna suck each other right back down into the quicksand.”   
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I can feel my face flaring up, my eyes stinging ferociously. His own eyes are red and rubbed raw.    
“I don’t think we’re a good idea - you and me - at least not right now.”   
“Juggie…” my eyes won’t stop flitting back and forth between him and his backpack, which is bursting at the seams.    
“This isn't a game, Betty!” he snaps, and it’s such a rare occasion, that I near jump out of my skin.   
My palms are hurting like hell.   
“I know it's not!”   
“Gangs aren't like a kids club, they're dangerous!”    
He’s treating me like I’m seven years old. Like I don’t know about all of this already. Like I don’t know where he disappears to every few days. Like I’m stupid.   
“ _ I know.  _ You know I know. I just want to help you!   
“I want to be with you, Jughead. I thought you knew this.”   
He pauses, his face screwed up, and my heart aches.    
“I do. I do know.”   
“Then let me  _ join. _ ”   
“I’m not stopping you,” he sighs, “but the other Serpents might. And Veronica will, and Archie. You know that.”   
My stomach caves in on itself.

 

* * *

 

**_Jughead_ **

We end up walking to the Whyte Wyrm, because Betty is Betty - as eager to get started as ever - and the trek across town takes us a good part of an hour due to our shared paranoia that someone’s watching us. Don’t get me wrong, it’s Riverdale, there’s bound to be a busybody spying on us through a shuttered window, but this was different. 

Or we could’ve just been irrationally anxious. 

Or rather, I was being irrationally anxious. When I was a kid, the first time my dad got involved with the Serpents, my mom made me promise to never ask him about it.  _ Never ask dad about the Serpents. Never tell Jellybean about the Serpents. Never get involved with the Serpents. _

The latter never seemed to be an option. I found out about what my dad had been getting involved in by accident, one night when I was up in my treehouse and watched, with makeshift binoculars crafted from two toilet roll derders and a plastic water bottle. I spotted him, clad in leather, passing brown paper bags, the same Mom would pack my school lunch into, to two similarly dressed men, in exchange for a wad of paper, quickly pocketed. 

By the time I’d plummeted down from my wooden platform, all three had gone, and I sprinted back to our house and told Mom about Dad and his friends. I don’t know if I’m safe to trust my own memories from years ago, but I’m sure I remember her face turning chalk-white.

I definitely remember the argument that ensued the chaos after my dad returned home, hours later. The hours of screaming and scratchy yells gave me all the information I could’ve wanted; my dad was a bad guy.  

Back then, Archie was obsessed with superheroes. He’d constantly cite good-and-bad narratives, Light vs Dark, Hero vs Villain. Betty and Kevin staged an intervention when we were eleven, it didn’t work. He grew out of his superhero phase at the end of middle school. But by the time I heard about Dad and the Serpents, I’d had four years of Archie’s comic talk to tell that if my dad was getting into trouble with the police, if he was hanging out with the bad guys - that made him a bad guy. 

I knew Archie wouldn’t let me be a bad guy.

But I guess this year’s been different. I guess I’m a bad guy now, and Betty is. Or perhaps, Serpents aren’t the bad guys. 

Perhaps we’re just misunderstood, and our journalists and police and maple farmers.

Or maybe we’re just all inherently bad, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on tumblr @thatiswhyiloveyou-betty or @faded-princesses  
> Comments and kudos and all of that good stuff is greatly appreciated!


End file.
